The Second Rider War
by Lightershadows
Summary: Jorden, son of Ismira, descendant of the renowned Roran Stronghammer, has his chance to prove his worth to the leaders of the humans' army when the Urgals declare war, attempting to gain control of the Riders. (Based on OC, contains spoilers of Inheritance)


As Jorden ran after his friend Nithra, laughing, she took another sudden turn down a nearly invisible alley, this time between the bakery and the cobbler's. When they passed the townspeople who were simply going about their daily business, there were many different reactions to the two near-adults chasing each other down the streets like children playing a game. Some shook their heads in disapproval, some laughed at the comical scene unfolding before them. A few pretended not to notice, but still smiled a bit.

Jorden was a much faster runner than Nithra when they were going in a straight line, but she was more nimble, and could turn much faster than he could, hence the winding path she took, weaving through the buildings.

All of a sudden, she was out in the open. They had reached the edge of town, and there was nowhere to go but straight. Jorden eventually caught up with her, grabbing her and pinning her down, but holding her just so that she was not hurt at all. He let her up, laughing, and said, "I win."

Still out of breath, Nithra gasped a reply between outbursts of giggles. "You always win. Can't I win at least once?"

He did not respond, but simply laughed even harder and hugged her close, pulling her small body towards his broad, muscular chest.

On the very outskirts of the rebuilt Carvahall, the two were a picture-perfect scene: frolicking in a meadow of wildflowers, surrounded by the jagged peaks of the Spine. They could see the towers of the castle that Jorgen's grandfather, Roran Stronghammer, had built when he first returned after the Rider War. Roran still lived in that castle with his wife Katrina, their daughter Ismira, her husband Juno, and their two children, Jorden and Kastra. Jorgen and Kastra had been raised in the castle and its fields, courtyards, and orchards. The siblings had grown up like royalty, with servants and maids, butlers and cooks, yet they weren't as spoiled as one would expect, seeing how they had lived their lives.

Although Jorden lived the life of a prince, he did not do much lounging around. He was almost always outdoors, running around in the woods, sparring with the trees, hanging from the tallest branches he could reach. When he was a child, Ismira was constantly fretting over the tiniest scrapes, but over time, she grew used to seeing myriad bruises and cuts along his knees and elbows. Kastra, on the other hand, did so much reading that her vocabulary surpassed her parents'. She was seldom anywhere but the great library that her grandmother Katrina had collected, and she especially loved the tales of elfin lore. Her beautiful voice sang songs that some of the oldest elves hadn't heard in centuries, and she hummed the melodic tunes as she flitted around the library, looking for a comfortable spot to read.

Juno was a great supporter of Jorden's fondness for the outdoors. The two often went hunting together, bringing food back for supper. The father and son duo had it all: speed, agility, and cunning. These hunting trips were where Jorden had learned to run so fast, yet stay so quiet.

He had met Nithra in the woods one day, playing on his own, a six-year-old warrior fighting the battles of his ancestors. Hacking the bark off a tree with his wooden sword, he'd been make-believing he was battling the evil Galbatorix, as his great-uncle Eragon had. Nithra had heard his ruckus of battle cries and wanted to play, too. After all, her grandparents _had_ known the real Eragon. Her mother, Hope, was the daughter of Elain and Horst, original residents of Carvahall and great friends of the Shadeslayer. All of a sudden Nithra had swooped into Jorden's battle as the Rider Arya on her imaginary dragon Firnen, helping to overthrow the corrupt king.

When the battle was finally over, he noticed that there was an actual girl there, not just the figment of his imagination he had thought she was.

The only reason he noticed this was because she had spoken.

"I'm Nithra," she had introduced herself.

"Uh… I'm Jorden."

And so, their friendship had begun.

* * *

As Jorden and Nithra bantered in the light of the setting sun, two sixteen-year-old best friends in the fields surrounding the town of Carvahall, the Urgals' approach caused the sound, mistaken for thunder, that provoked the return of the young adults to their homes.


End file.
